From the Memoirs of a Seer
by Jade Hunter
Summary: Snapshots from the life of Sibyll Trelawney, one of the greatest Seers in the world. Her story on how it began and why she is the way she is in the books. (Updated 5-12)
1. The Beginning of it All

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Title: From the Memoirs of a Seer

Author: Jade Hunter

Disclaimer: None of the characters and properties of _Harry Potter_ belong to me.

A.N: Written because I wanted to see if I could create more depth to a minor character. I may succeed, I may not. I tried. Canon compliant, even if it may not seem like it at first, everything will work out agreeably. I have plans, people, plans.

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Her full name was Sibyll Patricia Trelawney-Valmont.

She had possessed the Gift all her life, but it emerged for the first time when she was eight.

Being half-blood, courtesy of her muggle father, Sibyll had been raised to be comfortable in both the wizarding world and the muggle world. She had gone to a muggle primary school, instead of the ones set up for wizards and witches, and had loved every minute of it, until _that_ day.

It was a sunny day, which was outrageous in its audacity. Such events were only supposed to occur on gloomy, stormy nights, but that was in the stories, and this was real life.

Real life was always harsher than the stories. 

Real life was _real_.

Her small hand was tucked safely in her mother's larger one as she hop-skipped forward to keep up with her mother's larger steps. She wore a pale violet dress, one of her favorites at the time, and had a matching bag, which she swung about with her free hand.

It was then that she saw him.

With golden ringlets and bright green eyes, he was a beautiful little boy – even being a little girl herself, she had recognized the fact immediately, and told her mother so, not at all abashed. She had skipped the 'cooties' stage of childhood entirely, always having been too mature for her age, even before she knew things that other people didn't.

Her mother laughed, the laugh of tinkling silver bells, and agreed.

"He's such a _lovely_ boy," Sibyll repeated, her voice taking on a dreamy tone. "It's a shame that he has to die so soon."

With a startled gasp, her mother reigned her in sharply, jerking on her arm. "Sibyll! You do _not_ say such things! Telling stories will only get little girls in trouble!"

She stared at her mother curiously. Why was she acting as if Sibyll had done a bad thing? Bad things were when she stole, or lied. She had not stolen anything, and she had not lied.

"But mummy, I can _see_ him," she told her, matter-of-factly. "Standing right next to that boy, waiting to take him away."

"See who?" Eyes narrowing, her mother had crouched down to face her, hands coming up to rest on her tiny shoulders.

Sibyll turned back to watch the little boy, who was playing tag with a friend of his. She ignored the friend, ignored the boy, and focused on the dark and handsome man behind him, his clear skin alabaster, his perfect, angular face expressionless. She knew that no one else could see him, just as she knew who he was. 

"Death."

"Sibyll!"

"It's true. I _can_ see him. He's not scary _looking_, like in the pictures, but he _feels_ scary," she continued, her voice lowering to a whisper. 

Suddenly, she gasped, her blood running cold, her small hands trembling. Turning her back on the man, on the boy, she burrowed her face into her mother's shoulder, shudders wracking her small frame.

"Oh," she moaned. "Oh, _no_…"

Worried now, dismissing her daughter's former words, her mother embraced the girl, rocking her back and forth, not caring that some people were looking at them. 

"Oh, Sibyll, honey, what is it? Hmm? Tell mummy all about it, hon."

"He _looked_ at me," Sibyll choked out in a harsh whisper. Her indigo eyes were wide and her breathing was erratic. "He looked _right_ at me!"

Unable to understand who her daughter was talking about, unwilling to believe that her daughter could see Death, Sibyll's mother took a firmer hold on the girl and stood up. She would soothe her daughter and talk with her when they got home, not here out on the open. She ran across the street, checking carefully for cars, and shifted Sibyll's still trembling form to one arm. 

She was just digging inside her purse for the keys to the house when she heard it. Rubber squealed in protest as brakes were slammed on at the last minute. There was a thump, the car halted immediately, and the driver got out, pale and horrified.

"Someone call an ambulance!"

A crowd gathered, and someone ran into their house to do as the driver had pleaded. Others crouched down in the middle of the circle, checking something that Sibyll's mother couldn't see.

Sibyll shifted slightly, enough to place her mouth close to her mother's ear. "It's happened."

As if drawn by a magnetic force, Sibyll's mother slowly headed for the crowded scene of the accident, eyes flickering from her daughter's ashen face to the crowd.

When she was close enough, she saw him.

Automatically shielding her daughter's eyes, Sibyll's mother gasped, her stomach churning as she rapidly turned away.

Mind whirling with thoughts, denials, and so much more, she struggled to stay calm, for her daughter's sake. Running back towards the house, she fumbled open the door, and collapsed on the couch, Sibyll still in her arms.

"By Merlin," she said as she ran a shaky hand through her daughter's ebony curls. "By Merlin!"

Sibyll said nothing in reply, and simply hugged her mother closer.

Her mother sighed, tightened her hold on her daughter, and let her head flop back to rest on the couch. In a vain effort to block out the image of the little boy – his golden curls soaked by his blood, his green eyes staring blankly at nothing – she closed her eyes, letting a few tears leak out.

Maya Trelawney-Valmont had never dreamed this would happen, not to her beautiful, precious, one and only daughter. It had always been a possibility, of course, because the Seer gift was one passed down through her family. Her great-grandmother had been the renowned Cassandra Trelawney; her grandfather, her father, and her son had all been denied the Gift, as she herself had been, but it seemed as if the Gift of Sight had survived the generations – in Sibyll. 

"Why you?" she mumbled into her daughter's cheek. "Why you, darling, why you?"

Finally, Sibyll stirred. She sat back to look her mother straight in the eyes.

"I don't know why."

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TBC…

A.N.2: For the record, this is not a complete story that people are used to. Each chapter is supposed to be a simple excerpt from what could be a book, a memoir, to be more precise, so there is a skipping of time between each chapter.

A.N.3: For the names – both Cassandra and Sybil (the normal form of Sibyll) mean 'prophet' in Greek, which I'm sure JKR did on purpose. Therefore, I made Trelawney's mother's name Maya, which means 'mother' in Greek.


	2. Lessons and Acceptance

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Title: From the Memoirs of a Seer

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Author: Jade Hunter

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Disclaimer: None of the characters and properties of _Harry Potter_ belong to me.

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A.N: Written because I wanted to see if I could create more depth to a minor character. I may succeed, I may not. I tried.

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"Recite back to me the different classifications of Seers, dear."

Sibyll locked her arms behind her back and gazed up at her tutor with solemn eyes, taking a deep breath before answering, "There are three different levels of the Gift that Seers can possess. The most common level is the first, that of the Soothsayer. Those who posses the Gift at the second level are called Visionaries. The most rare level of the Gift is the third, and those Seers are Prophets."

The portrait of Cassandra Trelawney smiled down at her great-great-granddaughter in approval. The sole purpose of her existence was for this – to instruct the future Seers in her line personally – and the young girl before her was a true testament to her blood and the Gift.

"Excellent. Now, tell me what the differences are," she instructed.

Screwing up her nose in concentration, Sibyll thought carefully before wording her answer just so; "Soothsayers are fortunetellers. Their Gift is small, only enough to predict the near future. In fact, some Soothsayers are so limited in their Sight that they need the aid of other objects, such as tarot cards, tea leaves, crystal balls, and star charts. This method is often imprecise and is prone to error."

Cassandra studied Sibyll intently, "Next?"

"Visionaries are Seers who have visions of the future," Sibyll answered promptly. "Visionaries are constantly in danger, as these Seers have historically been coveted by the Dark and used for their visions until Sight Overload occurs."

"And what is Sight Overload?" Cassandra tested her protégé.

"Sight Overload is when a Seer's body gives out on them during a vision, and can lead to madness or death," the young Seer replied.

Cassandra nodded, smiling her approval.

"Prophets are the most rare of all Seers," Sibyll continued, "and their prophecies always come to pass in one form or another. There is a great power involved in prophesying, and thus even the most powerful of Seers can only make a handful of prophecies in their lifetime."

In the portrait, Cassandra leaned back in her cushioned chair in satisfaction. "Very good. It should also be noted that a Seer's Gift often modulates itself during a Seer's lifetime. You, for example, are a natural Soothsayer, one who doesn't need outside aid to predict near events. However, as your body grows, your Gift may increase to match the limits of your body. In a few years, you may become a Visionary, and even a Prophet. The limits of a Seer's Gift cannot be known until the Seer reaches the prime of his of her life, when all growing – mental, physical, and magical – has finished."

Obediently, Sibyll took up her quill and wrote down this new information. She was quickly learning that being a Seer was tricky business, and though many things were known about Seers, there were more things unknown than known.

Suddenly, a thought occurred to her, and she asked the portrait of her great-great-grandmother, "When I first got the Gift – "

"You've always had the Gift of Sight," Cassandra corrected gently. "You mean when your Gift first emerged from dormancy."

"Yes," Sibyll nodded, her black curls bouncing around her shoulders. "It wasn't like now. I knew that a little boy was going to die, but not because I _knew_ it. I knew because I saw him."

"Him?" Cassandra queried, frowning slightly.

Dark blue eyes darting around the room, Sibyll deemed it safe enough to whisper as quickly as she could, "Death."

Cassandra leaned forward in shock, "You saw Death?"

Sibyll nodded, her young face becoming pale and frightened.

"Tell me," her great-great-grandmother's portrait demanded. "Describe to me what he looked like!"

Reluctantly, Sibyll did as she was told. She remembered him all too well, even after three years; that marble visage could never be erased from her memory, nor could she ever forget the chill that had frozen her blood in its veins when his endless gaze had caught hers in that brief moment.

When she was through, Cassandra let out a long sigh. "You have the Inner Eye," she proclaimed.

Sibyll blinked. What in the world was the Inner Eye?

She voiced the question aloud, and Cassandra explained, "The Inner Eye is something that very few people have. It's not limited to Seers, or to magical folk. Muggles can have the Inner Eye as well, as it's really not a type of magic. It's almost a sixth sense, and cannot be fooled. Those with the Inner Eye can see through invisibility cloaks, all manner of illusion charms, and can see spirits and sprites that normal eyes cannot discern, such as Death."

Fascinated, Sibyll frantically filled her parchment with notes, leaving margins where she could later scribble questions that came up when she read the notes over again.

"Most divination books confuse the Inner Eye with the Sight," Cassandra continued gravely. "These books and their authors are grossly misinformed."

"Did you have the Inner Eye?" Sibyll asked, flexing her writing hand to prevent cramping.

Cassandra shook her head, "No. But I did know many who possessed the Inner Eye, and I know for a fact one of them is still alive, the old coot."

Sibyll smiled, "Who?"

"Albus Dumbledore," Cassandra said. "He was but a child when I first met him, but his Inner Eye was quite clear, even at that age."

The name was familiar to Sibyll. "He's the Headmaster of Hogwarts. Damon says he's the most powerful and wise wizard in the entire world."

Cassandra raised an amused brow, "I can't say for certain whether that is true or not; I died before Albus even graduated Hogwarts. But he was a bright young boy, and it wouldn't surprise me if your brother was right."

"I'll see for myself and tell you," Sibyll promised. "Or maybe you can talk to him. Do you think I can take you with me to Hogwarts?"

Cassandra laughed, amused, and eyed the edges of her life-sized portrait. "I don't think I'd fit into your trunk, dear."

"I suppose," Sibyll sighed, then tilted her head as she thoughtfully regarded nothing in particular.

Suddenly, her eyes widened, then brightened, and she fairly chucked her notes on her bed, tossing her quill aside and almost spilling her inkbottle. Excitement burning in her, she ran down the hall and thundered down the stairs, never even hearing Cassandra's confused calls for an explanation. Chest heaving, Sibyll slid into the dining room just as her mother was letting in a regal looking barn owl through the window above the sink.

"It's here!" she fairly screamed. "It's here!"

Maya smiled widely at her daughter, a tightening in her chest easing as she saw her daughter dance around the kitchen, acting her age for one. One of the things she regretted most about Sibyll's Gift was that it had matured her child far too soon.

Sibyll snatched her letter from the owl, ripping the envelope open.

"_Dear Miss Valmont_," she read aloud, "_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31. Yours Sincerely, Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress._"

Just then, Damon, who would be returning to Hogwarts as a fifth year, barreled into the room, breathless. "What's all the noise about?"

Smiling so widely that her cheeks hurt from the strain, Sibyll grabbed a hold of her older brother's arm and jumped up and down.

"I'm going to Hogwarts!"

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TBC…


End file.
